The Man with the Umbrella
by Ednor
Summary: The MyStrade story continues after my first story: "His First". We delve deeper into the mysteries that make Mycroft so interesting. Story follows Lestrade's POV. Explicit content, not for younger viewers. Contains M/M sex scenes. I don't own these characters, they come from the wonderfull mind of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and have been played with by Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat.
1. Chapter 1

**After the very positive results of my first story "His first" I've decided to continue it further. I had some help from my beta-reader SG-Siler. Please let me know if you find any mistakes in my grammar. Like I said before I'm not a native English speaker, but I always like to improve. The other chapters will follow soon! I've already completed two, but am keeping them on to see if there needs to be some tinkering before the end of the story.**

**As always I hope you like it, I would be very honored if you left me review. Have fun!**

Mycroft was right. Ten minutes after he left Anderson had come into Lestrade's office and complained about missing some evidence. He was ranting on about Sherlock probably taking it from the crime scene. The object could be seen on crime scene photos, but Anderson was unable to find it in any of the evidence boxes he'd taken from the crime scene. If Anderson had been paying more attention he might have noticed the big smile on Lestrade's face, who was only half listening to his rant. Greg's phone vibrated in his pocket, he took it out and opened the message.

_You were amazing, I'll be back soon.  
MH_

Butterflies. Greg wanted to reply but it was an unregistered number and he hadn't thought to ask Mycroft for his. Greg looked up at Anderson who was apparently waiting for an answer to a question he'd asked moments before. Greg raised his eyebrows at him.

"Well?" Anderson asked.

"Well what?"

"What are you going to do about the missing evidence? Sherlock can't just get away with this again!" Anderson spat the last sentence.

Greg felt calm and utterly relaxed when he told Anderson that Sherlock hadn't even been at that particular crime scene. Anderson looked up at the ceiling as if he was thinking about this news for a moment.

"You can't blame everything that goes wrong on Sherlock," Lestrade added. "Especially when he's not actually in the area. Go and have a look at those boxes again and recheck all the photo's to see if that.. What was it again?

"A lighter."

"If that lighter is the only thing that's missing from your evidence and bring me a full report."

That had started off Greg's workday and he'd been busy with paperwork until lunch. Even though he was surrounded by detectives and inspectors, no one mentioned anything about Greg's demeanor or the dent in his cabinet. He was walking around with a smile that went from ear to ear and no matter how heated conversations got, Greg seemed in control of all of them. It started raining at around three o'clock which brought the temperature back down to normal. It came down hard and the wind was tugging at the trees down in the streets. Early evening the phone calls started coming in. Everyone went on overtime as there were three reported murders and a rape. Things in the city had definitely cooled down.

Greg didn't come home until three in the morning. He took a quick shower and went to bed. Tired from working all day. Even though he would like to have lingered on his encounter with Mycroft some more, he couldn't stay awake.

Dreaming about a slender stranger giving him a blow job, Greg woke up at 7.43 AM with a hard on. Sunlight streaming through the old curtains. He moved onto his back and stroked himself over his boxer shorts. Had it really happened? Had he fucked a man? Finally? His fantasy had come true. He contemplated the events of last night and he could feel his cock needing more. He turned over the duvet and put his hand in his boxers moving up and down his erection, when his phone suddenly vibrated.

Greg picked it up off the nightstand and opened the message.

_Show me.  
MH_

Greg quickly looked up and around the room. He'd have noticed if there was a camera in his own house, wouldn't he? Surely Mycroft couldn't see what he was doing now.

Another message.

_I can.  
MH_

"Get out of my head Mycroft," Lestrade spoke out loud, not sure if Mycroft could hear as well as see him. Though he found this to be a bit creepy, he couldn't deny being aroused, knowing that Mycroft was looking at him jerking off. Not sure where the camera was, he positioned himself in the middle of his bed, moving his boxers down over his erection, so the elastic band pushed his balls upwards. He stroked his length. "Are you holding yours?" he spoke out loud again, hoping Mycroft could hear.

_I am.  
MH_

Greg grinned, thinking of the slender man holding his own erection and kept up the pace he'd set, stroking himself. He stopped after about a minute and pushed his now hard cock downward at the base so it stood up high and proud.

_I'm coming back to suck that and you'd better be ready for me.  
MH_

Greg groaned when he read that message and wet his fingers with his saliva before he started jerking off again. He imagined Mycroft lying in bed with him sucking his length, kissing and licking it. His hips moved up slightly, bucking into his hand. The rhythm taking over and steering him towards an orgasm.

_I want your balls in my mouth again.  
MH_

Greg opened his mouth and let out a deep sigh. He remembered the feeling from the day before when he'd almost come when Mycroft had taken one of his balls in his mouth. He started breathing heavily, his legs restless when he thrust into his hand. "Oh God, I'm going to come." His face contorted, toes curled and his stomach muscles tensed up while his back arched, pulling his buttocks off the bed. Greg came, splattering come all over his stomach and chest. His buttocks hit the bed, his body still tense as he milked the come from his cock, muscles relaxing one by one, cleaning his hand on his boxers. Letting his now soft cock rest against his stomach. Greg smiled again.

_You look beautiful when you come.  
MH_

"I wish I could see you."

_You will soon, I have to go. Be good.  
MH_

Greg couldn't shake the feeling of being watched all morning and kept looking for the camera in his bedroom and the other rooms in his house, but couldn't find any. Whatever position Mycroft held within the British Government he had access to the best of the best. That much was clear.

-xXx-

Almost four weeks had passed and there were no more messages from Mycroft or his assistant. Greg started to have feelings of insecurity about the whole relationship. Was it even a relationship? He didn't know. What do you call it when you have sex before your first date? He felt bad about himself and he didn't feel like going in to work when his phone rang. There was an apparent murder/suicide at 14 Dorset Street, Bryanston House apartments. He went there and found Sherlock Holmes and John Watson standing behind the police tape, being held back by Sgt. Sally Donovan. Sherlock and Donovan were sneering at each other.

"You're just upset because I said Anderson's wife was back. Don't blame me if he's not willing to leave his wife for you. Go blame him." Sherlock was looking around, when he saw Lestrade arriving at the crime scene. He left Donovan standing with her mouth open, ready to reply to his sneer and walked up to Greg. "Good, you're here," he exasperated, "they won't let me in."

"Well of course they won't let you in," Greg said, "you're not a real police officer." He cringed at his own words. He was angry at Mycroft and obviously taking it out on the younger brother.

Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks and raised an eyebrow as he cocked his head and looked Greg up and down, doctor Watson still at his side.

"Good evening doctor Watson." Greg nodded to him. "Can you please take Sherlock home." Greg hadn't thought about how close this crime scene was to Baker Street. He hadn't called Sherlock in so he must have come chasing the police cars or listening to his scanner.

Doctor Watson nodded understandingly and raised his hand to take Sherlock's arm. "Come on Sherlock, let's go."

"Something is wrong," Sherlock said as he squinted, while still looking at Greg. He tugged his arm out of John's grip and walked up closer to Lestrade. "You've had sex," he said. John turned around and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Not in the mood, Sherlock," Greg retorted, keeping an eye on Donovan and trying to make sure she couldn't hear the conversation. Of all the people to run into, Sherlock was definitely last on his list. He didn't want the whole world to find out he was gay. Not yet anyway, he wasn't ready. He wasn't sure. He'd just had sex with a man once, surely that didn't make you gay. Did it?  
To make sure Sherlock didn't blab out any more information he grabbed him by the arm and took him aside, away from the crime scene ribbon. John was left standing and pretended he had to check his phone.

"How long has it been? Three, maybe four years?"

"Shut up, Sherlock."

"It didn't end well, she left and now you're on your own again."

"Sherlock! What will it take for you to shut up?"

"Full access to your crime scene and evidence already collected," Sherlock quickly retorted.

"Why, Sherlock? I don't even know what's going on at this crime scene. It looks like a straight forward murder/suicide. You'll get bored very quickly."

"I've been cooped up in my apartment for over four weeks. You didn't call me, not once. I'm bored and running out of experiments. John's afraid I might blow up a whole block of flats if things go wrong." Suddenly Sherlock turned around and looked down the street. Greg followed his gaze but he couldn't see what Sherlock was looking at. When the consulting detective looked back and faced Lestrade he had a surprised look on his face.

"You weren't with a woman, you were with a."

Greg cut in quickly before Sherlock could finish his sentence. "Alright Sherlock, alright! Just stop talking!" Greg pleaded with him as he looked around again to see if anyone was standing close enough to hear them. "I'll let you in on the crime scene. Just don't think you can keep holding this over me, are we clear on that?"

"Crystal."

"What?" Greg asked stupidly.

"Clear. Crystal clear. Clear as a crystal." Sherlock hopped around energetically and signaled to John to come over.

Lestrade moved in on Sherlock, walking into his personal space. "Not a word to anyone, Sherlock. I mean it." He looked straight into the consulting detectives eyes. Sherlock quickly nodded his head.

The three of them walked towards the apartment building, Sherlock receiving a scowled look from sergeant Donovan. No more than ten minutes later they were walking back out again.

"So disappointing," Sherlock ranted.

"They can't all be criminally masterminded murders," John replied.

"A straight forward murder/suicide. Damn! But I wanted this so badly." Sherlock balled his fists tightly with a look on his face as if someone had stolen his favorite toy.

"Just go home Sherlock, I'll call you if I get anything interesting." Greg promised Sherlock. "Just try not to blow anything up in the meantime ok?" The last remark was pointed more to John than to Sherlock. He was feeling run down from the encounter with the younger Holmes brother and just wanted to go home and lie down.

John was pushing Sherlock into the direction of Baker Street and said goodbye to Greg. After a few meters Sherlock ran back to Greg and whispered into his ear: "My brother would not have you followed like this if he didn't at least like you." And then he shot back to John without watching what that sentence did to Greg.


	2. Chapter 2

**My second chapter, I've got more ready, but I seem to be tinkering with the story a lot the last few days. I've been reading a lot of books lately and it's fueled my inspiration in a massive way. I would like to hear if you like the storyline. **

**I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.**

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

Greg drove back to his apartment, got out of his car and walked into his building checking his postbox, when he felt his pocket vibrating.

_Outside. Now please.  
A_

The message came from an unregistered number. Greg didn't recognize the sender either, but he guessed it had something to do with Mycroft. He turned around, exited the building and immediately spotted a black car with tinted windows. A good looking, tall and broad shouldered black man in a smart suit standing next to the back door holding it open. Greg looked around wearily as he walked towards the vehicle.

"Good evening," he said to the driver who just nodded to Greg as he got into the car and shut the door.

The car looked like it was bigger on the inside. The surfaces were of a high quality finish. The light colored leather looked fantastic with the walnut wood paneling of the doors and the mini-bar. A young woman was already sitting in the car. She appeared to only have eyes for her Blackberry, which made Greg feel very uncomfortable.

"Did Mycroft send you?" he finally asked.

"Yes."

"Right. So you're his assistant?"

"Yes."

"And what does A stand for?"

"Today it's for Anthea."

"Ah."

Greg thought it was rather rude of her to keep working on her Blackberry. The detective in him wanted to draw her out so he kept asking her questions. Seeing if he could find out more about Mycroft.

"So, what is it your boss does for a living?"

"Can't say."

Greg raised an eyebrow.

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

"Where are you taking me?"

"I don't know."

"Will Mycroft be there?"

"Yes."

"Will you marry me?" Greg tried to unbalance Anthea, but she didn't even look up.

"No."

Suddenly a thought came to Greg's mind. "Are you texting all my questions to your boss?"

"Yes."

_Great._ Gregg thought. He was tired of this. It had been a long day and night and he wasn't in the mood for games. He just wanted to get out and go home again.

"Stop the car."

"No."

"I want to get out. Now stop the car."

"I can't do that."

Greg got very angry. He looked around to see if there was a way out without using the doors, but remembered them locking when the car had pulled off into traffic as they left his apartment building.

Greg's phone vibrated and he took it out of his pocket.

_Please stay in the car. I will explain everything when you get here.  
MH_

"Great."

The car drove for another thirty minutes or so and they were on the outskirts of London pulling up to some old abandoned buildings. Neither Greg nor Anthea had spoken another word until the car stopped.

"We're here. Just walk into the building across the street," Anthea said, still not looking up from her Blackberry.

Greg got out of the car and crossed the street, contemplating if he should go in. He finally did. It was utterly abandoned and it looked like it had been for years. He found an open door and entered deeper into the building. It was run down, but the roof still looked intact. Some of the windows were broken, but because they were very high up he couldn't feel the draft coming from them. The inside was one big hall, his footsteps echoed and in the middle of the room he found Mycroft standing next to a table. His pace became slower as he took in the sight. Impeccable three-piece-suit Mycroft standing next to a small round table that was lit by candles.

Greg felt his stomach clench and tense up. He was still very angry. Angry for being left alone all this time, not hearing a word. You can be busy. He understood being busy, but there was always time to send a text message. He'd never let his ex-wife in the wind about his whereabouts. He'd always let her know if he was going to be late, or not home at all. Surely Mycroft with all of these people working for him could do the same? And then there was this. This utterly romantic gesture that made Greg feel wanted and very much alive and perhaps even loved. There was no doubt in Greg's mind about the man in front of him being sexy. He'd like to get to know him better, but there would have to be changes.

As Greg got closer he could see Mycroft's face. He looked nervous.

_That's what you get for being able to read people's minds. _

Greg swallowed hard when he reached Mycroft. They stood there for a minute, staring into each other's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Mycroft spoke softly. "I didn't know I was going to be this long."

"Tell me Mycroft. How much time does it take to sent one bloody text message?" He was angry, his fists balled and his body tense. "If I'd wanted to do this. I could have a long time ago. But I didn't and there's a reason for that." He looked straight into Mycroft's face, teeth clenched in between his sentences. "You know what? Forget about it!" Greg wanted to walk away, back to the entrance hall of the building, but his feet wouldn't move. He looked down and suddenly swelled up with tears, not meaning to cry, but it happened. Greg immediately realized he'd been keeping them at bay for a while.

Mycroft was still looking at Greg, his face tense and serious. He stood absolutely still and spoke very sensitively. "I'm sorry Gregory. I should never have come to your office, knowing I was going away the next day. I ought to have realized sooner that it would be a very difficult time in your life. It's not easy realizing you might be gay. I should have taken better care of you after your first time with a man. I know it's been really hard all these years keeping your inner most feelings to yourself. Never sharing any of that. Then I break into your life, steel your inner most secret from you and opened it up to the world. Please believe me when I say I never meant for this to turn out this way. I just... I just want to see you happy."

Greg, feeling utterly embarrassed about the tears running down his face, removed them quickly with the sleeve of his shirt and looked up at Mycroft. He couldn't speak, fearing he would start crying again, but he nodded slightly, biting his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Hoping Mycroft would understand what he wanted to say.  
Mycroft moved in on Greg as soon as he saw the nod and held him in his arms. Greg taking a moment, but finally hugging the slender man back. They stood there for what seemed like ages, each man holding the other. Not moving. Not speaking. Just standing.  
Greg was the first to let go, taking a step back and looking at the well dressed table, smelling the food under the chafing dish on the side table.

"I thought some diner would be nice," said Mycroft. His voice sounded somewhat back to normal. "I've made sure we won't be disturbed."

Greg nodded again and smiled lightly. Mycroft led him to one of the chairs. He then went over to the chafing dish and opened the lid. The wonderful smell of the food was now filling the air around the table. Greg hadn't eaten diner yet and he now realized how hungry he was. He looked at the lid after Mycroft had put it on the side table. The engraved logo read 'Le Gavroche'.

"I didn't know you could order out at Le Gavroche."

"That's because you can't," Mycroft said.

"But how'd you manage this then?"

"The chef owed me a personal favor."

Greg looked at Mycroft and he just smiled back, putting on the sterile looking white heat resistant gloves, before he pulled two full and hot plates out of the chafing dish and put them on the table.

"Some wine?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes, please."

After pouring the wine Mycroft wheeled the side table few feet away so it wouldn't bother them while they were eating. After a few bites Greg started up the conversation again.

"This is really good food. That must have been one big favor he owes you. From what I hear Le Gavroche is fully booked weeks in advance."

"Months," Mycroft added.

Both men engaged in diner conversation as they enjoyed the rich flavors in their food. When they finished their plates, Greg hung back in his chair. Mycroft across the table from him sipping his wine. There was an awkward silence when they both looked at each other. Greg not knowing what to say and thinking the same was true for Mycroft. But he was wrong.

"Where would you like to go from here?"

Greg looked puzzled. "Our relationship?"

"I'm glad you're still calling it a relationship." Mycroft smiled gently, his eyes set on Greg. Looking at him like Sherlock does when he gets a difficult case.

_They are more alike than either of them would care to admit._

"I don't know. I've only been in one serious relationship before and that was with a woman. I don't know what to say, how to act, what to do. I'm completely out of my comfort zone."

"Do you trust me?" Mycroft asked. Greg was immediately aware that this wasn't just any question. The Holmes brothers had the best deductive reasoning skills Greg had ever seen, but he wasn't born yesterday. Being with Scotland Yard for almost twenty years had left him with some skills of his own. He watched Mycroft sitting absolutely still, his eyes set on Greg. Probably able to tell what Greg was thinking of right now.

"It's not a trick question," Mycroft added.

"How do you do that? I thought Sherlock was brilliant at this, but you might even be better if that is at all possible."

Mycroft smiled. "You flatter me Gregory."

"Do I trust you?" Greg repeated the question to himself. "I think a lot of people do trust you."

"That's not the answer to my question."

"Perhaps I just don't have an answer to this question. We've only just met, I know your brother reasonably well, but that may not be in favor of you. All we did was have sex for a night. I don't even know what it is you do for a living. Only that it takes you away from your home for weeks, maybe even months and half the country is at your backhand call. You're having me followed, you bugged my fucking house and my office." Greg started to get angry again. "How can I trust someone that does all that?"

"I can explain some of that. I am in a dangerous line of business. When I'm not here I want to make sure the people I care about are out of harm's way." Greg looked troubled, but Mycroft ignored his look. "I know you can take care of yourself, so can Sherlock. But I need to know, I want to be absolutely sure that you are all safe. All the time. I understand you may think ill of me for resorting to this. but for me to be able to do my job to the best of my abilities I need to be sure everyone around me is safe."

Greg thought about this for a moment. He still didn't see how having everyone you know followed kept them out of harm's way. It was a rather extreme measure and probably cost the government a lot of money to keep the surveillance of so many people up, day and night. "I'm very confused Mycroft. I don't understand half the feelings I'm having, therefore I can't say I trust you yet, because I just don't know. I do know that I like you and you're damn sexy in those suits." Mycroft smiled at that. "But I need to sort out my feelings. Not just for you, but for me too."

Mycroft nodded slightly. "I understand," he said looking at the floor. A few moments later he got up from his chair, walked up to Greg and stuck out his hand. Greg hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do, but took the hand anyway. Mycroft smiled and pulled Greg up from his chair into his arms. Mycroft was just a few inches taller than he was. His lips looking so kissable, especially in the candlelight. Music started playing in the background and Mycroft led Greg into a slow dance.

Greg grinned and shook his head. "How do you do that?"

"It's my special power."

"Do you do this to all the boys you pick up?"

"Oh no, you're special."

Butterflies.

They danced and Greg felt amazing which started to confuse him again. He wanted to ask Mycroft so many questions it dazed him. He didn't know where to start.

"I'll answer all your questions later, let's just enjoy this for now."

"You are fucking amazing Mycroft," Greg said and buried his head in Mycroft's shoulder. His questions would have to wait. For now he was just going to enjoy himself and let Mycroft lead him across the room. Greg didn't know how long they danced, but he felt very tired when they stopped.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Mycroft asked.

Greg nodded and they walked towards the door. Once outside the car was waiting for them, now facing the other way. The same man held the door open and both men stepped in. Anthea was not in the car.

"Where's your assistant?"

"Someone has to stay behind to make sure nothing's left."


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter. I know it seems I've forgotten about the story, but not to worry. I've still got plenty to come, but I like to make sure the chapter is finished before posting and I usually tinker a lot with stories. More sex in this chapter, so enjoy. A review is very kind.**

Greg and Mycroft sat next to each other in the back of the black car, the interior smelled of leather and expensive whiskey from the two glasses that had been poured for them before they'd entered the car. Greg pushed his leg against Mycroft's who flinched and moved it away. Greg thought he caught a glimpse of pain on the slender man's face who smiled and put the leg back where it was before gently brushing back against Greg's.

Greg started moving his leg, rubbing Mycroft's in the process. Keeping an eye on Mycroft to see if he flinched again, but he didn't. Mycroft took Greg's left hand into his and looked at it while he stroked it gently. He opened it up and started massaging the open hand. The gesture felt very intimate and a small and slow shiver started making its way from Greg's hand, up his arm and leaving his body with every breath he took. It relaxed Greg in a way he'd never experienced before. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the fine leather seat and let out a sigh which Mycroft caught in a kiss. It was warm, sensual and wet. Tongues intertwined and rolled around each other. Mycroft let go of Greg's hand and ran his fingers through his lovers thick grey hair, pulling gently at it. Moans tried to escape each man's mouth but were stifled in yet another sloppy kiss. Greg started to kiss Mycoft's neck when the car suddenly stopped. He looked outside and saw that they were at his flat already.

They both sat silently in the car for a minute. "Would you like to come up?"

Mycroft smiled gently. "Are you sure you want me to?"

Greg just nodded and smiled with his mouth as well as his eyes.

"It's a good thing it's still dark," Mycroft said as Greg exited the car.

"Why?"

Mycroft pointed towards Greg's crotch where a slight bulge was visible. Greg was suddenly very aware of his arousal and looked at his watch. It was just before 5am, no chance of any of his neighbors seeing him like this, or for that matter looking at him strangely for bringing another man back to his flat in the middle of the night. Mycroft got out of the car, his umbrella trailing behind him as they went up to Greg's apartment.

"I'd give you the tour but I think you've already seen all of it."

Mycroft's cheeks flushed slightly and Greg decided not to embarrass him further.

"Would you like something to drink? I don't have any whiskey but I'm sure I have a beer in the fridge."

"That's fine, I'd like to try a beer," Mycroft answered.

Greg came back into the living room and found Mycroft already sitting on his couch. He gave him a beer and went to sit down next to him. There they sat, Mycroft had his legs crossed, sat up straight and played with the umbrella handle and Greg slouched on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.

"Is this going to work?" Greg asked, taking a sip from the beer.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Us, you mean?"

"Yes. You must know we're very different."

"I know we are. What's that saying again? Oh yes. Opposites attract, don't they?" Mycroft stared into Greg's eyes.

"Why me?"

Mycroft smiled his devilishly handsome smile at Greg, as though remembering something very naughty. A look someone might have on their face after being caught with ones hand in the cookie jar. Greg started to smile, though he felt a bit uncomfortable.

"What?"

"My brother," Mycroft answered. The answer startled Greg, he'd never considered Sherlock that way. Handsome though he was, he wasn't Greg's type. Apparently Mycroft deduced what Greg was thinking. "Not in that way, in the way you handle my brother. Apart from mummy there's no one I know that can keep him in check. You seem to have a natural gift for that." Mycroft drank a sip from his beer and put it down on the table, letting his umbrella rest against his leg and took up massaging Greg's hand again. "I'd watch how you handled Sherlock and got intrigued. It's very sexy and unusual to find someone that strong. Combine that with your looks and body, how could I resist?" Greg huffed at the last sentence, which made Mycroft look up at Greg. The lust filled eyes told Greg the man in front of him wasn't lying.

"Do you know everything about me?"

"Pretty much, yes. Sorry, but I already knew when it became obvious you and Sherlock were going to work together." The hand massage relaxed Greg but he still wanted to ask so many questions. He went quiet for a few minutes, building up enough nerves to ask a very personal question. He took a few gulps from his beer. "How did you know you were gay?"

Mycroft's face went earnest, like he was trying to remember something important. "Oh I think I've always known. At boarding school I always found it very pleasurable to be in the company of other boys. Never thought about being with women. It did take me a while to start going out with men. Sex never interested me before, I always tried to out-do everyone else including Sherlock."

"Sherlock is still trying to out-do everyone," Greg said and the men laughed.

"Are you sure you want this?" Mycroft looked the same as he had when asking Greg if he trusted him.

Greg took a minute to think about it and drank some more from his beer before he answered. He decided it would be best to lay all his feelings and especially his doubts out on the table. If Mycroft decided he didn't want any part of this Greg, he could go and they would both not waste any time being with the wrong person. He told him about his run in with Sherlock and about how he'd tried to keep Donovan from finding out that he was possibly gay. Mycroft listened intently as Greg went on telling him he wanted to be sure that he was before he'd tell anyone else. He also let Mycroft know about his confusing and conflicting emotions that seemed to switch sides on him seemingly at randomly.

"I'd just like to spend some time getting to know you," he finally said.

Mycroft kissed Greg tenderly, only brushing his lips. "Then you shall." Mycroft took out his phone and dabbled with it for a moment, Greg looking bemused at the phone. Wondering how he could take the time to text someone now. But then he put it away and started kissing Greg again.

The first time they'd had sex it had been very physical. Now this kiss, felt very sensory driven. Greg could feel the man next to him, hear his humming, taste his tongue and feel Mycroft's hand running up and down his arm and upper body, a warmth radiating from his skin. Surely something that felt this good could only get better with time. Greg closed his eyes and let his hands and tongue go where they wanted to. The feeling of their being together filled him with a sense of balance and he felt like he could take on the world. Greg's senses where overwhelmed and he started breathing heavily. Mycroft held back a little.

"Are you ok?" he asked uncertainly, looking into Greg's eyes, cupping his head in his hand.

"Yes. I think so. This just feels so good, so right. I can't explain," his chest still heaving. "You make me feel good."

Mycroft smiled a very broad smile, that lit up his face and especially his eyes. The beautiful color really caught Greg's eye and they gazed at each other. Greg thought the man in front of him looked very happy and incredibly sexy.

"You should smile like this more often Mycroft. I really like being with you. I don't know if this will last, but for now everything seems so clear when I'm with you like this."

The moment was disturbed by Mycroft's phone beeping, he looked apologetically before taking it out of his trouser pocket, muttering an excuse to Greg, who understood what it was like to get phone calls in the middle of the night. He just hoped it didn't mean the night had come to an end.

"I'm sorry," Mycroft said.

"You have to go?"

"No."

"Then what are you sorry for?"

"I took some liberties in arranging some time for us."

Greg didn't understand and showed his bewilderment on his face.

"I've taken the week off."

Greg looked in awe at that news. From what he understood about Mycroft he didn't seem the type of person that took time off.

"Anthea rearranged my schedule for the coming week so we can be together."

"But I have to work," Greg said. "I've got to be in at eight."

"That's where the liberties come in."

Once again Greg looked puzzled.

"I've gotten you a week off as well."

"What? How?" Greg knew Mycroft was high up the food chain, but he didn't understand how he'd gotten him time off from work at six o'clock in the morning.

"Anthea arranged it with your bosses. Don't worry, your cases will be very well taken care of."

"But how? More favors?" Greg was confused again. Mycroft just snapped his fingers and things happened just like that. It couldn't have been more than half an hour since he'd texted Anthea about this and now it was done.

"I know, it's difficult to get to grips with. I know a lot of important people. I don't mean to offend or demean you. I just want us to have a real chance and you've repeated a number of times that you'd like to find out if this is what you want. We need time to get to know each other. Best way to do that is by being together, somewhere where we won't be interrupted. I promise I won't do anything like this again without asking you first, just give it... give us a chance. I want you to know as much about me as I do about you. Well to a certain extent of course. I know we can be great together and..."

"Your rambling," Greg interrupted, "You don't seem the rambling type."

Mycroft smiled eyes gazing at Greg. "There aren't many things that do that to me Gregory. Actually, you're the only known source of my rambling as far as I know. Please don't tell Sherlock, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Don't worry, it'll be our little secret." Greg winked, his mind exploding with questions again, but he didn't want to ask them, so he pushed them to the back of his mind. "So what are we going to do for a week?" An innocent look splattered all over his face, Mycroft smiled wickedly, kissed Greg, pushed him down on the sofa and laid on top of him. Greg let Mycroft's legs between his own and he felt the slender man's erection touching his own through their pants. Mycroft kissed Greg's neck passionately and thrust his groin into Greg's, who retorted the gesture.

"Fuck, why does this feel so good."

His hands moving all over Mycroft's back, pulling at his shirt trying to get it off, so he could feel the bare skin. Mycroft's phone buzzed again and he kept on kissing Greg while looking at the message.

"We're off in four hours," he spoke in between kissing Greg and unbuttoning his shirt.

"What?" Greg managed.

"Our plane leaves in four hours and you've got a bag to pack."

"How do y," his words cut short again by Mycroft biting his neck just hard enough for it to be sensual and painful at the same time. "Ah shit." He managed as he tried to bite back and felt his cock moving violently in his briefs.

Mycroft had finally finished opening Greg's shirt and got up on his knees to undo his own clothes, all the while looking at the man lying beneath him. Mycroft removed his shirt and Greg's mouth fell open. Their first time had been in the dark and he hadn't properly been able to see what his lover looked like. Now there he was, the slender man had trained well. He wasn't buff, but the shape of his muscles were clearly visible and there was even the hint of a six-pack. But what really surprised Greg, and not in a good way, were the bruises on his torso. It seemed to be in different stages of healing, with rainbow colored bruises running all over his ribcage.

"What happened?" Greg exclaimed.

"The negotiations of the last couple of weeks were a little tougher than I had anticipated."

"Jesus! Does it hurt? Is anything broken?"

"Only when I laugh," Mycroft smiled. "Don't worry it's really not that bad, nothing broken. Most of it is healing. My physician looked me over and sent me on my way. That's when I came looking for you."

Greg ran his fingers over the bruises. Some of them must hurt with every move he made. Suddenly remembering the painful look on Mycroft's face in the car. He looked into Mycroft's eyes and understood why he had everyone around him followed. If people could do this to Mycroft, who seemed so untouchable, then they'd not hesitate to do it, or worse to the people he cared about.

"When you said you were in a dangerous line of business, you really meant dangerous."

"Yes, I did."

"Are you ok?" Greg was still moving his hands over the bruises feeling the muscles beneath. He'd been beaten up himself of course. He was in a dangerous line of business himself, but he now felt Mycroft's was on a whole other level.

"I am ok now."

"You must be in pain."

"Yes. But I can manage it." Mycroft raised his eyebrows as if to say the matter was closed, but Greg didn't falter quite that easily.

"How are you doing, really." Greg stared intently at Mycroft, not planning on letting it go until he got a decent answer.

"Gregory, you know I can't tell you about my work. I am fine, really I am. The pain means nothing to me. I spent more than a year in a Buddhist monastery on the Indian-Tibetan border where they thought me the fine art of meditation. I can now channel feelings from my mind. I can't tell you any more than that."

Greg, not feeling completely satisfied with the answer but knowing that he would not get any more out of him, dropped his gaze to Mycroft's stomach muscles. Greg could see the beautiful body trough the bruises and his mouth opened up just that little bit as he looked and felt at this body before him. He couldn't stop looking at it and his mind started to drift.

"Something wrong?" Greg jumped a bit, being lost in his own thoughts. Mycroft suddenly looked insecure. Greg hadn't seen this look on him before and wondered if Mycroft felt unsure about his looks. If that was true then it was very unnecessary.

"You look amazing, I know you're bruised but you feel so good. I didn't think you could look even more sexy without your three piece suit, but wow." He sat up and started kissing Mycroft's stomach, being extra careful on the bruises and used his fingers to harden the nipples. He lowered his face and very gently bit at the hard flesh beneath the fabric of Mycroft's pants and felt a shudder going through the erection. He opened the pants carefully, not knowing where the bruises ended and they slid down Mycroft's legs. There it was for the second time in Greg's life. He was more sure now than he had been the first time. He felt the fabric of the silk boxers and moved his hand over the erection. He could hear slight moans coming from above. Lust filled eyes regarded him from above.

Greg put his fingers between Mycroft's skin and his boxers and pulled them over and down the erection in one go. Greg looked up again staring at Mycroft as he opened his mouth and put his tongue out, slowly licking the head and tasting the pre come. Mycroft looked spellbound at this man licking his cock. Greg put his mouth over the head, sucking hard at the tip, his hands firmly on Mycroft's buttocks. Greg kept looking at Mycroft who was obviously enjoying the moment, his eyes now closed and he had seemingly stopped breathing. It made Greg feel good to be doing this to the man who could as he put it 'channel feelings from my mind'. Greg moved his head back and forth tantalizingly slowly, but he didn't go deep.

"Please," Mycroft had opened his eyes again and pleaded with Greg.

Greg stopped for a moment. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to take it all."

Greg smiled before blowing a warm breath over the wet erection and Mycroft shuddered throughout his whole body.

"Please."

Greg decided not to tease him any further and opened his mouth, he put it over Mycroft's cock and took it as far as he could swallowing the head. Mycroft gasped for air which made Greg's heart flutter. Mycroft took control of Greg's head with his hands and trust his cock back and forth into his mouth, looking down. Greg tried to focus on the rhythm trying to catch breaths where ever he could. The thick cock laid heavily on his tongue and he tried to make his lips into a tight ring around it. Moving up and down the length being guided by his lovers slender hands. Mycroft started to shake and Greg could feel the imminent orgasm.

"I'm going to come, I don't want to come," Mycroft breathed and he grabbed a fist full of Greg's thick hair holding his head clear of his erection.

"I want you to come for me now. I want to feel you come undone because I did that to you." Greg smiled as he said that to Mycroft who released his hands from the gray hair and opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. He allowed Greg to take control and it seemed to him Mycroft didn't let anyone just take control over him. The bruises were a testament to that. Greg took him deep and slow and fast and shallow, feeling his lovers body reacting to all the things he did. He could hear from the breathing that Mycroft was close to his orgasm and Greg started to take his cock with deep and long strokes. He heard Mycroft shout some obscenities just before he reached his orgasm. Greg licked, sucked and swallowed the come from Mycroft's cock. The slender man fell against Greg, pushing him down on the couch again and laid himself on top of him, laying his head on Greg's chest.

"That was amazing."

Greg just smiled and rubbed Mycroft's back.

"You're a natural. I can't believe this is happening."

"You just say that to all the men."

Mycroft looked up at Greg. "No I don't. You are not just anyone Gregory. I hope you know that."

Greg's smile just got bigger.


	4. Chapter 4

Greg had to tell Mycroft to get off the couch after they'd been lying there for far too long. He still had a suitcase to pack and didn't even know where he was going. The enjoyment of having Mycroft laying boneless on top of him after his orgasm had filled Greg with an indescribable feeling of wanting, maybe even needing, more. He didn't even care about whether or not he climaxed. That was strange because he couldn't remember ever not caring if he came or not. He felt very selfless and satisfied at the same time, which was definitely a contradiction in terminus.

Greg stepped on to the private airplane and was once again amazed at the attention to detail. The inside of the airplane looked like they always did in the movies he'd seen. Leather finish, tables to work at and a very good looking stewardess in a tight red flight attendant uniform. Greg was gob smacked and apparently he showed it. Mycroft came in right after Greg and pushed his body into Greg's.

'Amazing isn't it?'

'Are you rich?'

'Let's just say I've got enough to get by.'

'If this,' Greg indicated the airplane, 'is getting by, then I'm a vagrant.'

Mycroft smiled as he walked past Greg touching his lovers bottom and sat in a chair. 'Come on let's sit down so we can get out of here.'

'Are you finally going to tell me where we're going?' Greg asked as he sat down in the chair opposite Mycroft. The stewardess came to check if they were strapped in properly, closed the door and disappeared into the back of the airplane. The engine started roaring and they began to move towards the runway.

'Now what would be the fun in telling you where we're going?'

Greg thought about it for a moment and although he was very curious he also liked to be surprised. So he let it go, he'd find out eventually anyway.

They'd been in the air for little more than an hour and the stewardess had served them Champaign right after their three star meal on a real plate with a real fork and knife. This was very different than traveling coach, he could get used to this very easily.

Mycroft told the stewardess she was excused for the rest of the trip.

'Very well, sir. Should you require my services earlier you can ring the bell. I will be back to pick up your plates right before we land.'

'Thank you,' Greg said, not sure if it was the protocol to thank the flight attendant.

'Very kind of you, sir.' She nodded and left through the backdoor of the cabin.

Both men finished their meal, set aside their plates and sipped their Champaign. Greg got a bit giddy from the bubbles, not being used to them. Mycroft smiled at him and looked Greg over.

'We were in a bit of a hurry leaving your apartment and we may have forgotten something along the way.'

Greg knew exactly what he was talking about but pretended that he had no clue, shrugging his shoulders and raising his eyebrows, but his dark eyes gave him away and he knew it. Mycroft drank the last of his Champaign, unbuckled his seat belt and got up from his chair, suddenly wobbling slightly, rolling his eyes and blinking very fast. Trying to hold on tightly to the table surface.

'Something wrong?' Greg asked looking worried.

Mycroft looked around profusely. Greg got out of his chair just in time to catch Mycroft so he could lay him on the floor of the airplane.

'Mycroft! Mycroft! Are you ok? Mycroft!' Greg slapped him across the cheek to try and bring him round again.

Mycroft just rolled his eyes, he didn't seem to be able to focus. Mumbling something Greg couldn't understand.

'Stewardess!' Damn why hadn't he asked her name. 'Stewardess!'

'Stay awake Mycroft! It's going to be fine, stay with me. Shit! Stewardess!' Greg started to feel a bit dizzy himself, but the adrenaline kept him going. Mycroft closed his eyes and the stewardess was still no ware to be seen. He wanted to shout for her again when he heard a male voice behind him.

'Hullo Detective Inspector Lestrade.'

Greg fought the dizziness and turned his head around. There was a man standing in the isle. Short build, nice suit and tie. He couldn't focus on the face. Too many details he couldn't discern, his eyes already rolling in their sockets.

'You should have been lying next to your boyfriend by now. You must have some natural tolerance to the sleep drug I gave you.'

'Who are you? What do you want?' Greg sounded drunk and he tried very hard to hold on to his withering consciousness.

'Tut tut. Your boyfriend didn't tell you I captured him?' The man tilted his head to the right very slowly. 'Doesn't he confide in you? Don't you know where the bruises come from. You must have noticed, wondered? Never mind, he escaped me once but not again. Can't get proper help these days. But not to worry, they all paid for their mistake. Now I'm here to make sure Mycroft doesn't interfere with my plans.'

Greg tried to hold on to one of the chairs, but his legs were already giving out his knees on the floor next to Mycroft.

'Mor...iart...y?' he managed to get out before he could hold on to the table no longer and slipped to the floor.

'Bored now,' was the last thing Greg heard before he completely lost consciousness.

-xXx-

Greg woke up first. He felt groggy, as if he'd woken up after a heavy night of drinking. He was sat in his chair again, seat belt done up. He felt the wind run through the airplane. His vision blurred, but he tried to focus. Out the window he could see the plane was low to the ground and passing over small islands with palm trees. He undid his seat belt and looked towards the door of the cockpit, it was open and he couldn't see anyone flying the plane. He tried franticly to wake Mycroft up. After a couple of seconds he started to move his head and tried to open his eyes.

'Wake up Mycroft, I don't think anyone is flying the plane!'

Mycroft woke with a shudder and stood up on his feet in a split second moving towards the cockpit. He took the pilot seat, quickly looking over the controls and the meters before looking outside if, probably seeing if there was any place to land.

'Don't tell me you know how to fly a plane?'

'I've had some lessons. Sit down and strap in.'

'I've never flown a plane,' Greg answered.

'This is a good a time to learn as any, now sit down and strap in. I need your help. We need to land it together, we're almost out of fuel.'

Greg sat down and strapped in. Mycroft tried the radio, but all the cords were either cut or missing. Greg swallowed hard when he looked out the window and saw the sea passing fast beneath them. Mycroft looked around outside. Greg could guess what he was looking for but most of the islands were covered with trees.

'There!' Mycroft exclaimed. He pointed to the large island just to the left of them. 'The beach should just be wide enough for us to land on.'

Greg looked scared and even in this frantic time he noticed Mycroft looking calm. This must be the reason he was good at what he does. Never wavering in the face of almost certain death. It calmed Greg down a bit so he could take orders from Mycroft.

'It'll be ok. We're going to be fine,' Mycroft assured him and Greg believed him. 'Just do what I tell you and we'll be fine. We may have just enough kerosene to make the turn and land downwind. Be ready to pull the steering wheel when I tell you, don't touch anything else.'

Mycroft pushed some switches and levers and took the steering column into his hands. He looked intently from his meters to out the window at the beach slash landing strip. Mycroft made a sharp turn and Greg could feel it in his stomach. The beach came closer and closer, Mycroft pushed some levers and the flaps went down.

'Don't you need to put out the landing gear?'

'If I do that the plane will dig into the sand and turn over. We need to land her on her belly.'

Greg swallowed again.

'Grab the column, but don't pull yet. I'll tell you when.'

'Ok.' Greg put his sweaty hands on the column and sighed deeply. He looked at the man next to him, feeling sure he was going to save the both of them. When he looked in front he could see them approaching the beach fast. The airplane aligned with the beach perfectly. They were almost down in the sand.

'PULL!' Mycroft screamed.

Everything seemed a blur from that moment on. Greg pulled with all his strength and he could feel the airplane slowing down somewhat as the engines roared violently, but it felt like it wasn't enough to stop before the tree line. He could hear Mycroft shouting to pull more. Then they hit the beach at speed, the airplane shook violently and Greg heard horrible sounds of tearing metal and the airplane skidded over the beach feeling every bump. The trees on the other side of the beach seemed to move towards them at incredible speed. Greg screamed and tried pulling the column towards him even more, but they didn't stop in time. The last thing Greg remembered was a jumble of crashing noises like windows shattering and trees snapping, as they entered the tree line.

When he woke up he felt groggy. He touched his face and it felt painful, pulling some small glass shards from it. Suddenly his mind went towards Mycroft. Was he still alive? He tried to undo his straps and only succeeded after a couple of tries. He checked if he could move his legs before trying to get up. The cockpit was a mess. Glass and bits of airplane lying everywhere. One tree trunk sticking trough the window and Mycroft's head resting against it. Had the tree hit him? Was he still alive? Greg stopped for a moment, hoping, praying, his lover was alive. Then he heard a gurgled breath coming from Mycroft. He went to his side and carefully tried to push the trunk out of the way but it was too heavy, trying not to hurt Mycroft further. Some of the smaller trunks had clearly hit him hard, there were red streaks across his face and his clothing was torn from the branches that had cut through them. He couldn't see any blood, which Greg decided was good news.

'Mycroft, are you ok?'

Greg saw one of Mycroft's eyelids open slightly before they closed again.

'You'll be fine, I'll take care of you.' Suddenly Greg remembered the stewardess. He looked towards the back of the airplane but didn't see anyone though he did try calling out to her. He checked Mycroft for injuries but could find no broken bones in his limbs. He knew he probably shouldn't move Mycroft but the gurgling sounds became worse and he was worried he might choke. So he carefully put Mycroft's head straight so he could breath properly and went to check if the stewardess was in the back, but she wasn't. He found no trace of her. The body of the plane was still in one piece but it looked like a rugby team had held a match inside, everything was broken and almost all the cabinet doors were open and their contents splayed all over the floor, seats and table.

He went back to Mycroft. He seemed weaker. Greg decided it would be better if he laid him down on the floor.

'You're going to be ok Mycroft,' he whispered in his ear. Greg started clearing enough debris of the floor so he could put Mycroft down on it. After he'd done he searched for something soft to lay him on and he found it in the stewardess cabin. He arranged the blankets and went back over to Mycroft who still slumped in his chair. Greg undid his seat belt, pushed his upper body forward so he could put his arms around him from his back, the movement made Mycroft growl.

'Sorry Mycroft, but I have to put you on the floor.' He grabbed him under the arms and heaved him out of the seat. The mass of the lifeless body weighed heavy in Greg's arms but he managed to pull him free of the chair and on to the floor where he'd sprawled the blankets. It took him a moment to recover from the work. Greg started checking Mycroft's body for injuries, opening up his jacket, shirt and undid his pants. He couldn't tell which of the bruises on his stomach were fresh, but at least there were no puncture marks. His legs seemed fine also. The head was a whole different matter. There was a big bump on the side of his head and now that he could take a good look at them the red streaks were deep and starting to turn a dark shade of purple. Greg opened Mycroft's eyelids one by one. Thanking his bosses for making him take the mandatory first aid classes, always finding them tedious and knowing that in London help was never far away. He knew it would be a bad sign if one of the pupils was bigger than the other. Luckily they weren't and Greg concluded it would most likely be a concussion of some sort. Mycroft's body started to convulse suddenly. Greg saw some vomit come from Mycroft's mouth and quickly laid him on his side until the vomit started to seep out. Mycroft didn't seem to be breathing.

'Breathe Mycroft,' Greg pleaded. 'Breathe.' He tapped Mycroft's back with his hand and put his fingers in his mouth getting all the vomit out. Suddenly he heard and saw Mycroft fighting to get air into his lungs and coughing. After a couple of gasps his breathing calmed again and he decided to keep Mycroft on his side, just in case it happened again. He cleaned the vomit with some rag he found on the floor and after making sure Mycroft was safe he decided to have a look outside.

If he hadn't been in so much trouble he may have loved this view. The pristine white beach ran up the coast about fifty meters, the tree line started right after. He could hear birds and the fresh smell of nature rose up in his nostrils. The door to the airplane was close enough to the ground that Greg could get in and out easily. He looked around carefully to make sure there wasn't anything he needed to worry about before he jumped on to the sand. The sun was low on the horizon. Greg started looking if he could see any signs of civilization. He hadn't spotted anything from the air before they landed and Greg thought it very unlikely he'd find anyone down here, but he looked anyway.

He had no idea where they were, this didn't look anything like Europe. All around him were tropical plants and palm trees usually associated life below the equator. How far had Moriarty brought them? And where was Moriarty? Had he jumped out? Was that how he'd gotten out? Did he get picked up. Maybe there was a boat nearby. Greg passed the tail of the plane and stood on the beach looking out over the ocean. There was nothing there. He didn't even hear birds or other wildlife. Though he thought they must have gone away when the airplane crashed.

Greg had camped before, but that had never really prepared him for this. His military training had, but that was a long time ago. He hoped he'd remember some of the things he'd learned all those years ago. He recalled his sergeant screaming at his team that there would come a day when he'd need the knowledge he was teaching them. Now Greg wished he'd paid more attention during those lessons. Water, food and shelter. His sergeant, for the life of him he couldn't remember his name, had repeated over and over. Greg walked back into the airplane to see what food and water was left. At least they could shelter in the body of the airplane thinking there was no need to worry about the kerosene because they'd been all out when they landed.

He went to look in on Mycroft , who still seemed to be sleeping. Greg checked his pulse which seemed to be a bit fast. The bump on his head was still visible and darkening further with blood clothing just under the skin. There was nothing he could do for him now but make him comfortable and hope he'd be ok. At least the man had been in good shape before this happened.  
Greg looked at his friend lying there and for the first time today he felt emotions boil up inside him. What if Mycroft died? For the first time in his life he found someone that made him truly happy and now he might lose him again. What if..?

_Stop it Greg, no point in negative thinking. That's what the sarge used to say. Why can't I remember his name?_

Greg went back into the pantry and looked for anything eatable and drinkable. He found a couple of bottles of wine, Champaign and stronger spirits. He put all the food and drink in one place thinking of the drugs he'd taken unwittingly Greg thought it would most likely have been the Champaign because they'd taken that last. He stopped looking when it became too dark to see clearly, the sun had gone down and he brought some plastic bottles of spring water with him to the makeshift bed. It wouldn't last them long, but it was something. He scooted closer to Mycroft and put his head up a little to pour some water into his mouth. The wounded man made gurgling noises, seemed to be choking and spit the water back out. Greg didn't give up putting small amounts of water in his mouth..

'You need to drink Mycroft. Please drink it, it'll make you feel better.'

As if Mycroft had heard him, he swallowed a little bit of water. Greg let his head down gently to rest on the makeshift pillow he'd put under his head.

'Now rest Mycroft, you need to sleep. Don't worry I'm right here.'

Greg didn't know if there were any wild animals on the island, so he barricaded the lower half of the door just in case there were. Greg felt tired and the aches and pains from the crash we're now weighing heavily on him. He laid himself to rest next to Mycroft, checked his pulse and after ensuring he was ok he fell asleep next to him.


End file.
